


you love love love, when you know i can't love

by beyondmyreach



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, Doflamingo feels softer this time around, Drama, Feels, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Mafia, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent (in a kissing scene), Non-Explicit Sex, POV Second Person, Sibling Incest, Tragedy, Unrequited Love, from Rosinante's POV, so much angst as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 22:37:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14724896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyondmyreach/pseuds/beyondmyreach
Summary: “The Hanahaki disease,” he says and your eyes widen. A smile spreads across Doflamingo’s face. “Who is it for, Roci?” he asks, almost absentmindedly, and then your heart races and your face flushes, because heknows.That is amusement in his voice.





	you love love love, when you know i can't love

**Author's Note:**

> *sob and sniffle* Thank you, [Sou-chan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/iheartsenpai/pseuds/iheartsenpai), so much for editing this fic in a record of time, considering how long it is and how many fics I threw at you for you to edit. You're the best!!
> 
> Title is from Of Monsters and Men's [ Love love love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=beiPP_MGz6I), though I was listening to another song while I was writing this fic (see endnote for that song, because that song matches the ending more and this song matches the Hanahaki disease).

The first time it happens, you don't think much of it. The Donquixote Family is just finishing up a skirmish with another pirate group. Its members are just a tad stronger than you have expected them to be and when your unfortunate clumsy habit kicks in, one of its member lands a lucky shot and slams a mace straight into your stomach. You retaliate, and a few seconds after, you are doubling over, mouth parting as you retch, saliva and blood gliding through your lips, painting them shiny and red.

You don't have the chance to catch your breath or wipe your mouth before you are seized by your chin, forcing your breathless face up even as your body can’t quite follow. Your brother’s wide grin greets you and whatever breath that manages to remain in your lungs, too, gets driven out as something constricts painfully around your heart.

“You’re hopeless, Roci,” Doflamingo says. It should have sounded like a disparaging insult, would have, if not for his fond tone or indulgent grin as he shoots a String Bullet through the rising small fry you have failed to finish off.

Doflamingo wipes the saliva and blood off your lips as the said small fry collapses behind you, and you know this time, there is no chance he is getting back up again. “Don’t get careless now. We still have much to do, and I need you there to witness the Donquixote Family’s rise.”

Your lips part. Your skin tingles where his fingers have brushed over. You nod, and Doflamingo smiles this time.

“Good,” he says. “Now get those injuries checked.”

You watch him go check on his other Executives one by one, stepping over fallen bodies of minions from both the other pirate group and his alike, and if your breath has a floral scent to it, it is overpowered by the metallic tang that clings to the air, the same way blood does to the ship’s floorboard.

Xxx

The second time, you are in front of the bathroom mirror, painting on your customary artificial smile that stretches from cheek to cheek with a lipstick. Your breath is inexplicably caught, and when it is released, it is as a cough, and blood follows.

For a second, you stare at the red lipstick that you have dropped in the sink when you have coughed, at the violent splatters of red against the sink’s porcelain white, and try to reconcile the two. But this close in juxtaposition, it is very clear that the two, although red, are not from the same source, and then your hand, in mimicry of the invisible one already there, unwittingly closes around the column of your throat.

Sitting on the curve of the sink bowl, just barely resisting the pull of gravity, is a single delicate flower petal.

Xxx

The Hanahaki disease, it is called, is a rare disease that can only be contracted in Grand Line. Its exact origin is unknown, since patients can contract it and learn only years later that they have it. Some may even never discover they carry the disease, since it only manifests under very specific conditions.

“An illness born from one-sided love, where vines of a flower with thorns will grow around the patient’s heart while they suffer from one-sided love,” you read from a medical text that you have found after hours of scouring. “Earlier stages include the patient coughing out blood and experience pain in their heart. Later stages, as the flower begins to blossom, include throwing up and coughing out flower petals. If the love is not requited or eradicated by the time the flower grows in full bloom, the thorn of the vines will ultimately prick into the patient’s heart and they will die. At the current level of medicine, attempts to remove the vine only resulted in failure and the death of the patient.”

You put down the medical text on your bedside table afterwards, a little dazed and disbelieving, but mostly in denial. Even without seeking your heart, you already know for whom have the deadly flower in your heart grow for.

You close your eyes, and the image of Doflamingo’s grin as he held your chin in his hand appears behind your eyelids, clear and vivid as though it has been yesterday. Clear and vivid because it has been flashing through your mind all day and week, a memory that you can't help polishing and reliving with every unwitting rewind.

Your heart clenches and you feel sick.

Xxx

“Roci, stay behind,” Doflamingo calls after the family meeting has adjourned and the Executives are all in the midst of departing. None of them pause for a second, even as you falter, like it is normal for the Donquixote brothers to talk in private after meetings.

 _Well,_ you muse in attempt to keep up your blasé mask, _more like there's nothing unusual or noteworthy about brothers talking in private._

And really, there is nothing special about it, nothing except that after you have discovered that you have the Hanahaki disease and all the implications that come with it, you have been studiously avoiding Doflamingo.

You know better than to do something so blatant like that. Your brother is sharp and unless your intention is to get caught in the act, he would eventually catch on and question you about it. You know, yet you can't help it. Every time you see him, you can't help but remember his proprietary grasp of your chin, the warmth of his fingers as they brushed against your lips, and inevitably, your heart would constrict and you would remember the vine around your heart, the physical proof of your sick love for your own brother.

The door closes behind the last Executive exiting with a small click and then you and Doflamingo are alone. You stand in the middle of the room, nothing around you bar empty space, and Doflamingo looks at you.

You can't tell what he is thinking, his shades are in the way. You want to fidget but know better than to since that is the first sign of an uncomfortable liar, so instead, you brush the sides of your feather coat aside, reach into your pocket, and withdraw your cigarette and lighter.

You can feel Doflamingo’s eyes on you as your lips parts, and you don't know why you do it, but it is really only because he is watching that you flick your tongue over your lips, wetting them, before placing the cigarette in between. You light it and inhale, allowing the insidious smoke to spread throughout your lungs and to drop your imperceptibly tense shoulders down by a notch.

You look up afterwards and met Doflamingo's gaze, tilting your head to the side in askance. It takes him a moment to speak.

“How have you been recently?” Doflamingo asks, and your eyebrows raise. That is not what you are expecting him to ask. He laughs at your reaction. “I can't ask after my little brother?”

‘I'm well,’ you say after a moment, signing out your answer.

Doflamingo stands from his seat and walks towards you. You have the distinct impression of a predator circling its prey.

“Are you really?” he asks. “The housekeepers says they found blood in your room, Roci.” Doflamingo stops merely a foot away from you and you feel his gaze on you intensify. “And you've been avoiding me. Why?”

‘I,’ you start and then stop. You don't know what to say. You can't tell him.

You shake your head.

“Look at me, Roci,” Doflamingo commands, and you look up. Warmth envelopes the side of your neck as he clasps his hand against it. His thumb brushes against your face and traces your jawline.

“The Hanahaki disease,” he says and your eyes widen. A smile spreads across Doflamingo’s face. “Who is it for, Roci?” he asks, almost absentmindedly, and then your heart races and your face flushes, because he _knows._

That is amusement in his voice.

You wretch yourself back, but then Doflamingo slips his hand from the side of your neck to the back of it, and what is once a pleasant source of warmth turns into a prison as you become caught against it.

“Shhh,” he says, like he is calming a spooked animal. He plucks the cigarette from your lips and drops it onto the ground. “All you have to do is tell me you want me, little brother.” He tilts your face up.

‘No,’ you mouth, but then his lips are slotting against yours and you have nowhere else to turn but towards him. Your hands go to clench in his coat, and Doflamingo makes an encouraging noise as he delves into your mouth.

Your heart hurts. You can't breathe when the two of you finally part.

Doflamingo is smiling.

“See,” he says, ruffling your hair. “Isn't that easy? You should have came to me sooner, Roci.” He leans in again, a hand sliding under your button-down. “Don't I always take care of you?”

You want to resist, want to pull away, but meets him halfway instead, forever helpless against the pull he has on you.

Xxx

“Do you love me?” Doflamingo has taken to asking whenever you two are alone in private. “Do you love me?” he asks as he drags a warm hand down your flushed body, a small smile that says he knows the both of you already know the answer on his face. He just wants to see you admit it, see the way your face contort with equal parts shyness, pleasure and shame as you do so.

“Well?” he asks, indulgent and patient as he looks down at you, and you let out a small gasp as he slows his ministration to a tortuous pace.

You try rolling to your side, away from Doflamingo, too overwhelmed by the sensory details your body are trying to process, despite knowing it is futile.

There is nowhere for you to go, not from under Doflamingo’s watchful gaze or gentle hands.

Doflamingo merely hums and tugs you back, already used to and anticipating your reaction. His grip is careful as he peels away the arm you have thrown over your face, revealing your flushed face.

“Tell me,” he says, one part command and two parts cajolement. His shades are off, that is one of the few demands you have made of him when you started this, and he has complied because you so rarely make requests of him and this one is no hardship.

You can see his eyes with his shades off and they are so soft, like how they are more often than not during both of your time in Mariejois when he is with family, that you can't help reaching up and drawing him down against you, pressing the two of your lips tightly together as you nod without looking at him. Your face burns.

You can feel his lips stretching to a boyish, pleased smile like it’s the first time you have admitted it, despite the fact that you have done so many, many times before. But it is precisely because he always seems so pleased everytime you admitted it, so happy to be reminded that he is loved, that you always end up giving into his request, because this one is no hardship to you even if it is a bit embarrassing, and you are all too willing to fulfill it (unlike other darker, more sordid ones).

Doflamingo presses down against you, slips a hand between your legs and twists his hand just so, and you are trembling, gasping soundlessly against him as your body strains for more _._

‘Doffy,” you mouth, your entire body arching up towards him. ‘Doffy.’

“Cry for me, Roci,” Doffy murmurs against you, an arm across your chest to hold you down as he rolls his hips against you, and you hold back the whine in the back of your throat as you pant silently.

‘Please, Doffy, please,’ you mouth, hands grasping insistently at him, and he hushes you, pressing his lips to your sweaty forehead.

“Shh, I’ll take care of you, Roci,” Doflamingo says. “It’s okay, cry for me.”

And it is usually that that does it, Doflamingo holding you against him, his careful concentration as he keeps you at the edge and then brings you over, the softness, the moment when all his edges are gone and all that is left is your brother who cares intensely for you, and the you who care intensely back.

You come with a soft cry, a half-broken mewl, and Doffy laughs silently afterwards, smile broad on his face as he kisses you again and cradles you in his arms like you are beyond precious to him.

You close your eyes, let yourself soak in his warmth surrounding you, and pretend that is enough.

Xxx

You never stop coughing up flower petals.

Xxx

You are sitting in your room, reading through the reports of the Donquixote Family’s activities and plans that you have ‘borrowed’ from Doflamingo’s room without him knowing, when you feel it coming, that clawing feeling in your throat that builds up and grows more insistent as you think more about Doflamingo.

You get to the bathroom just in time before you begin to gag, saliva and blood slipping through your lips as you grasp helplessly at your throat, tears lining your eyes and plopping into the sink before a half-torn flower finally tumbles out from your open mouth. It shatters into a dozen of white petals upon impact onto the sink and you can see the red that dots them from when their barbs have scrapped your throat raw on the way up.

There is a knock on the door.

“Roci,” you hear your brother call, and your breath gets caught in your throat. You look out of the bathroom at the reports you have taken from Doflamingo without his permission and then at the flower petals in the sink that you don't want him to know about.

You flush the toilet and quickly turn on the facet in the sink, hoping Doflamingo can hear the sound since the bathroom in your room is close to the door. Then, you rush out of the bathroom, hoping against all hope that the petals would be washed down the sink, as you fall to your knees, grab all of Doflamingo’s documents and toss them under your couch.

You are just reaching for the last stray document when you begin to gag again, your raw throat evidently not liking the strenuous run you have taken after you have just thrown up half of a barbed flower. Your hands fly to your mouth and then blood is spilling from between them, splashing the document beneath you with red.

“Roci!” you hear Doflamingo shout and then he is beside you, holding you in his arms as you retch, after all the care you have taken to never have an episode in front of Doflamingo and to always have mint at hand to hide the metallic and floral tang of your breath.

You try to wave him off, to sign at him that you’re fine, but then another cough seizes you and you end up coughing out more blood instead. Fear seizes your heart as he follows the trajectory of the blood splatter to the stolen document beneath you, but he doesn’t even notice its content, so transfixed as he is by the red liquid slowing sinking into its surface instead.

“What is going on?” he asks, and his voice is low, dangerously so. He looks at you, grabs your face. “Why are you coughing out blood?”

There is suspicion in his eyes, a growing inkling that you knew you have to snuff out before it blooms.

You shake your head and try to speak before remembering that you can’t, try signing again except your hands are shaking and he isn’t looking at your hands, but rather at your face.

 _He knows, he knows, he knows,_ your heart beats against your chest, and in the silence, the water running in the bathroom is especially loud.

Doflamingo lets go of you and stands, almost mechanically, and you know he is heading into the bathroom.

‘Doffy,’ you mouth. You reach for his hand, miss, and watch helplessly as he walks on without looking back.

Grabbing the blood-splattered document, you stuff it into the trash can on the off chance that he decides to look at it later after all. Then, you painfully stand and follow, hoping in your heart that by now, all the flower petals would have been washed down the drain.

You stop just outside the bathroom where Doflamingo - impossible to read from behind - stands, and wrap your fingers around the frame of the door to steady yourself. With your other hand, you draw against his back, ‘Doffy?’

The speed in which he spins around nearly knocks you over, but then you are grabbed on either side of your arms and you are falling in another way as his eyes meet yours.

“Who is it?” he asks, and your eyes widen at his words, at the grief and desperation in his voice but also at the dark violent undercurrent, the type of anger that can only be abated by lashing out at others or at himself.

You look behind him into the bathroom instinctively, even as inwardly, you know what you would find. From your point of view over Doflamingo’s shoulders, you can see the sink. The water is still running, almost overrunning by now, and in the bowl of climbing red-ish water, gently swirling at the surface, are the flower petals that you have thrown up.

You close your eyes and press your lips together, not knowing what to say, and that is an answer in itself.

Your heart hurts in the silence that follows as Doflamingo lets you go.

‘Doffy,’ you mouth, reaching for him, even as your heart constricts and you can feel another incoming cough. ‘Doffy, please.’

“I’m killing you,” he says, shakes his head and backs away. “All this time I thought I was healing you and I am still killing you.”

‘Doffy,’ you want to mouth again, but then you are doubling over coughing. Doflamingo hesitates for a second, and in that second, you grab him by his feather coat and drag him down, hold tight onto your fistful of feather and don’t let go. ‘Stay,’ you tilt your head and mouth against him. ‘It’s okay, Doffy, it’s okay.’

He is looking at you with wide eyes. You’ve never seen him look that way, and the pain in your heart eases at the thought that you’re the only one who can elicit this in him.

‘It’s okay,’ you murmur silently again, pull him close to you. ‘Stay.’

He stays.

Xxx

“I love you,” Doflamingo has taken to saying whenever you two are alone in private. “I love you,” he says as he kisses down your flushed body, a kind of desperation lingering behind his every action, his every word, as though he can imprint his proposed love into your very body, your very soul.

As though he is trying to tell you those words as he is trying to plea them to himself.

“I love you,” he says and handles you so gently it is painful, and you accept his gestures, his words, because how can you not, when behind every proclamation is an apology, a 'Sorry, I'm killing you, my only family left, and I don't know how to fix it.'

 _He doesn’t know how to love_ , you think, and think you’re okay with that. Let it settle in your heart that you’re fine dying for that, dying for him.

Let the thought of _he’s not fine with letting you die for him_ settle in your heart and sooth the blistering, stabbing hurt from the knowledge that deep within his heart, Doflamingo can’t bring himself to love you.

Xxx

As you grow weaker and weaker, Doflamingo leaves your side less and less unless he has to. The last time was when he left to obtain the Op Op Fruit and when he returned and handed it to you, you secretly gave it to Law. Doflamingo raged at you for days after, only calming down when you told him that since Law is knowledgeable in medicine and he has the Op Op Fruit now, maybe he could heal you.

_“I can do it with the Op Op Fruit,” Law said, looking so wonderfully healthy now that his Amber Lead disease is healed. He looks between you and Doflamingo in bemusement at the line of question because it may be common knowledge among the Donquixote Family that Doflamingo’s younger brother is sick, but no one knew of what and certainly not for whom. “But the Hanahaki disease is one born from unrequited love,” he continued, sounding so much like a little doctor that you would have smiled if not for the topic at hand, “and if it is removed, the feelings would most likely be removed too.”_

_You and Doflamingo exchanged a look, and you read all that you needed to know in that one moment._

_You shook your head and smiled. ‘I see. Thank you for indulging me, Law,’ you wrote out._

_Law looked at you strangely, wrinkled his nose at Doflamingo, and then took the dismissal he heard in your words and scampered away._

_“We’ll find another way,” you tell Doflamingo. “It’s okay.”_

_Doflamingo held you in his arms without speaking a word and you held him back, and somewhere in between, you lost track of who was reassuring who._

‘Don't go,’ you tell him this time when he tells you that he's going to be gone for a week. ‘Don't go,’ you say, grasping at his hand. ‘Don't proceed with Dressrosa.’

He shakes his head, tells you of his vision for the Donquixote Family, how he can see it rising after this one operation and how he wants you to be there to see it, but you shake your head and look at him and repeat, ‘Don’t go,’ and he hesitates.

Finally, he nods, so you urge, ‘Promise me,’ and he says, “I promise you.”

You wake up later that night and in the empty silence of the Donquixote Headquarter, the tapping of your secret Den Den Mushi seems especially loud. You answer it and when Sengoku says, “Doflamingo”, “operation,” and “tonight” because he doesn’t know about your Hanahaki disease and how could you tell him, you close your eyes and take a breath before rolling out of bed.

Doflamingo’s eyes widen and his manic grin fades when he sees you. He says, “Why are you here?” as he throws his feathered coat over you and you mouth, coughing in the middle, ‘You promised me.’

He looks at you, at the nearly full-bloom flower that you have spat onto the snow of Dressrosa’s dock and its petals that are drenched in blood, and spits out, “I should just let you die here,” as he combs his fingers through your sweat-matted hair with one hand and crushes the flower with the other before anyone else can see it.

You let out a laugh that sounds more like a cough and slip your hand out from beneath his coat to say, ‘Take me home, Doffy. Take me home, I don’t want to die here.’

There is a beat when he just looks at you and you become aware of the entire Donquixote Family at his back, all ready to do Doflamingo’s bidding the moment he orders them to, of the rich country of Dressrosa standing proudly in front of him, unknowing of the pirates at its shores and just so ripe to be raided.

Behind him, Trebol says, “ _Doffy_ , you can't possibly be considering it. All of our planning leads to this one moment,” and you say nothing at all and simply wait.

You grimace as you hold back another cough.

Doflamingo gathers you in his arms. His tone is dark as he says, “The next time you do something like this, I’ll bring you back here, make you watch me take over Dressrosa, and then kill you myself.” You hide a small smile despite his violent words as he raises his voice and shouts, “We’re going back.”

Trebol splutters and tries to say something, but Senior Pink shakes his head and holds him back. Jora chuckles knowingly and you don’t know how the other Executives react because you are falling asleep with your heart feeling lighter in years.

When you wake up, you are back in the Donquixote Headquarters with Doflamingo beside you, and your heart no longer feels constricted.

Xxx

You stop coughing out flower petals.

Xxx

Sometimes you wonder if it would have been better if Doflamingo have never loved you back. If he never loved you back and you died from the Hanahaki disease with your last wish being that he don’t proceed with Dressrosa, would he have still attempted it again?

Even without thinking about it, you already know the answer.

He would have promised at your bedside not to do it, waited for you to die, and then proceeded anyway. That is just the type of person he is, just as this is just the type of person you are as you stand on the opposite end of him and the Donquixote Family with the Marines and Dressrosa’s guards flanking you.

Doflamingo looks at the entourage he is greeted with on what is supposed to be a secret operation among the Donquixote Family, at Law and a few of the kids by your side, and finally looks at you.

“It was you,” he says, and the battlefield is no place to be breaking down, but you can hear the crack in his voice. Betrayal always cuts deeper when you are blindsided by it.

You say aloud, because you can be cruel in your kindness, “Marine Code 01746. Commander Rosinante of the Navy Headquarters” and let all that you have lied to him sink in in this moment, right before the battle and not during, and let yourself soak in his anger, his hurt, his hatred, right here and now, right before the battle and not during.

Your heart hurts, but you would no longer be coughing out petals, and somehow, that hurts even more.

Some time during the battle, like it is fate, meant to be, you and Doflamingo end up coming face-to-face with each other.

“Do you remember what I said the last time we were here?” Doflamingo asks, and you remember his warmth around you against the cold as he promised to bring you home and then proceeded to fulfill it. A manic smirk edged with what you think losing control would look like spreads across his face and this time, you know there is no stopping him, no home for you to go back to. “I don’t take kindly to betrayal, little brother.”

_“The next time you do something like this, I’ll bring you back here, make you watch me take over Dressrosa, and then kill you myself."_

“Doffy,” you say and as soon as you have said it, you know it is the wrong thing to say.

The two of you fight, harsh and brutal without holding back, and when one of Doflamingo’s String Bullet hits you instead of slipping by, Doflamingo meets your eyes and says, demanding and almost vulnerable, “I’ll forgive you if you come back.”

You close your eyes and shake your head, so he shoots. Again and again and again and again.

You fall, breathing heavily through all your puncture wounds, and you can’t bring yourself to look at Doflamingo as he towers over you. Then, you hear a shout that chills you more than the copious blood leaving your body.

“Cora-san!”

“No!” you say because you no longer have the breath to shout, only for you to mouth it when you realize you can’t even speak.

Law falls beside you, sea stone cuffs clanking loudly around his wrists, and Doflamingo’s laugh rings in your ears.

You try to roll over to your back to look at Doflamingo, but he steps onto your back, right on where all his bullets have exited your body. You scream, halfway between a sob and a harsh exhale.

You watch helplessly as he grabs Law by his hair and form a gun with his index finger and thumb. The only mercy is that Law is unconscious. “I did promise, Roci,” Doflamingo says, pointing it Law’s head. “You’re going to die before Dressrosa falls, but you’re going to watch Law die before you follow.” There is a manic look in his eyes. “I did give you a chance, Roci.”

 _And you didn’t take it,_ the accusation is left unspoken but heard.

Your hand closes around Doflamingo’s ankle, and he lets you. His expression is so blank.

‘Please,’ you mouth because you can’t speak, because despite no sound leaving from you, you know he is watching. He is always watching, always looking after you, and some habits are hard to break, even if he finds out that the reason behind this habit is a lie.

Doflamingo’s following laugh sounds more like a cry than a laugh to your ears. You close your eyes and blink rapidly, know what you’re doing is cruel, but still do it anyway. ‘Please, Doffy,’ you mouth. ‘Let him go. Let Law go.’

Doflamingo’s weight press down on you as he crouch with his feet still on your back. You bite your lips and don’t cry out, even as a familiar tang of metallic enters your mouth. You half expect a floral tang to follow.

Doflamingo lets go of Law to tilt your face back to meet his by the grasp of your chin. Your eyes are wet from pain, pain and so much pain, in your body, your heart and in everything in between, but there is no fear in them. At least not for yourself.

“Roci, Roci,” he sings like you two are not on a battlefield and the both of you have all the time in the world. But then again, you are pretty sure that if you look up, you will see the Executives darting around Doflamingo, watching and protecting his back. The thought settles in your heart and soothes it. “Do you hear yourself sometimes?” he asks, and then his face clouds over. “But then again, it has been six years, haven’t it, since you crawled back to me fourteen years after leaving me and all that time you have been playing mute beside me. Such dedication to your treachery, Roci.”

You close your eyes and Doflamingo wretches your chin up. You let out a cry as it jolts your wounds.

“Don’t you _dare_ close your eyes on me, little brother,” he says. “I would hate for you to unknowingly miss your precious Law’s last moment.”

Your gaze unwittingly dart to Law’s prone body. You think you might have seen him stir. You blink rapidly, but don’t close your eyes again.

Doflamingo smiles and it can almost be considered soft. “Good,” he says, and then he reaches down to your body and digs his fingers into your dripping wounds.

You think you let out a strangled scream, a cry, but you’re not sure. When you come back to it, Doflamingo is cooing at you, wiping at the tears that have slipped down your face with his thumb and saying, “There, there.”

‘Doffy,’ you mouth, and his grip on your chin tightens to a painful degree, before he visibly makes an effort to let go.

It still takes him a moment to speak.

“How do you do it, Roci?” he asks, running his thumb over your lips. “How do your lips form my name so sweetly and then you turn around and backstab me like this? How, Roci, h -“ Doflamingo snaps his mouth shut at the break in his voice, and you blink more rapidly because you can’t close your eyes.

‘I’m sorry, Doffy,’ you mouth, tears streaming endlessly down your face. ‘I’m sorry.’

Doflamingo laughs. “Are you? Are you really, Roci, or are you just saying that to save your precious Law? How many lies have you so sincerely told me, Roci?” He leans in close to you, and peers deep at you. “Should we find out? I didn’t hit any vital organs of yours. Even with all these bullet wounds, it will take a while for you to bleed out if we caturize it with fire. Primitive, but it’ll do its job.”

You lick your lips and Doflamingo’s gaze follows it. ‘Anything,’ you sign, barely able to keep your hand straight or tell your fingers to properly shape the signs you want. Some signs end up a little crooked because your index finger refuses to bend where it is broken. ‘Anything you want, Doffy, as long as you promise to let him go.’

Doflamingo looks at you for a long moment, before smiling. This one is not nearly as soft, and instead, more cruel than humane. You abruptly miss all the soft smiles Doflamingo used to direct at you, before everything went to hell. But then again, even back then, you didn't deserve them. “Because I’ve never broken promises to you, Roci? How would you know I will honor this one?” His lips twist on the word ‘honor’ like it is a joke to him.

You reach up to him, curl a hand around his face, and he lets you, despite his eyes going cold, a silent promise that he will not let anything of yours in ever again.

‘Because you’re my brother,’ you murmur without a sound, and your mouth tastes bitter from all your tears. You can’t look at him anymore, so you look away. Your hand slips from his face and Doflamingo catches it. You finish, signing, ‘Because you love me, even when I don’t deserve it.’

A droplet of water plops onto your face, before sliding down to mingle with the rest of your tears. Your eyes widen as you look up. Doflamingo looks away, but his grip on you gentles even as it tightens.

“Give me your heart,” Doflamingo finally says. When he looks back at you, there is no sign that he have shed the tear that has fallen on your face. “Order Law to give me your heart, and I’ll let Law and the kids go.”

He snorts derisively as relief settles visibly on your face.

‘Thank you,’ you mouth, and don't say, _‘It was yours long ago. My heart was yours even before the vines took home in it.’_

You close your eyes and let your tears fall freely from behind your eyelids. You startle as a hand settle over your eyes, and then Doflamingo’s lips are pressing against your own. You kiss back, try to convey your love, your apology, your acknowledgement of his hurt and how much you’re sorry for it. Doflamingo kisses back for a heartbeat, and then wretches himself away.

“Give me your heart,” he orders, letting go, and your eyes are drooping now, you are so sleepy, but you nod.

‘Law,’ you mouth, and then brush a hand against the face of your son in everything but name when you realize that he wouldn't see you calling him.

Doflamingo's grip on you tighten a little.

‘Give him my heart, Law,’ you sign, laughing a little even though it hurts your wounds when Law lifts his head, his eyes filled with tears and outrage. ‘You weren’t being subtle about trying to escape those sea stone cuffs, Law. If I noticed, Doffy knew.’

“He’s not getting your heart, Cora-san!” Law exclaims. “If I could’ve landed a surprise attack on him - ” Law blinks rapidly when he notices just how much blood have you spilled onto the ground beneath you. He is a doctor, he knows how to do the math. “No… Cora-san, no!”

‘Give him my heart,’ you sign again. You look at Law. ‘That’s what I want. Please.’

“Not that this isn’t touching,” Doflamingo drawls, and you’re sure that he would have spoken much sooner if he isn’t so busy trying to modulate his tone, not that Law would have realized or known, “but a heart drawn from dear dead Rosinante wouldn’t count. Tick-tock, Law.”

You wonder if Law would have noticed the break in Doffy’s voice at the word ‘dead’ if he isn’t so busy being angry at Doffy.

 _He still has much to learn_ , you think, and spare a moment to feel sad that you wouldn’t be able to teach him or see him learn. But the price of betraying Doflamingo is death and you’re fine with that, if it means you get to save a few more lives from his inhumane plans.

“You -!” Law says and you would have been kinder, more tolerant, if you aren't losing your consciousness fast and you don't think you’ll wake again once you slip away.

Instead, you sign, ‘Law!’ sharply, and Law snaps his mouth shut mulishly, even as you feel bad that these are the last moments of you that he’s going to remember you by. ‘Please,’ you say again, more gently this time and finally, Law nods.

It doesn’t hurt when Law finally cuts your heart out, though his gasp does make you feel a bit embarrassed when he notices the vine wrapped around and the full-bloom flower resting gently on top of your heart.

“Cora-san,” he says, looking at you wide-eyed, and you try to give him a sheepish crooked smile as your eyes begin to drift close.

Law yelps and you open your eyes just in time to see Doflamingo snatch your heart away from him.

“Transition complete,” Doflamingo says. He looks at you and he could have said dozens of other mocking or cruel words, but instead, he turns away when he realizes you’re really dying, and says, “Goodbye, Rosinante.”

You part your mouth and nudge at Law, who has fallen to his knees beside your cooling body, and grudgingly, Law calls, “Wait.”

Doflamingo stops and turns around, eyes instinctively falling towards you. You smile and as your eyes fall, with the last of your strength, you mouth a route that they could use to escape Dressrosa, a loophole you have left when you are organizing blockades with the Marines and Dressrosa’s guards.

The last thought you have is that you feel warm with your heart cradled carefully in Doflamingo’s grip, and then you fade away.

Xxx

Years later when Law has successfully taken down the Donquixote Family with the help of Monkey D. Luffy and his equally crazy crew, Doflamingo will tell him the location of Cora-san’s heart without any prompting from Law. Law will find Cora-san’s heart placed in a box of preserving liquid in Doflamingo's room, directly on the ledge of the fireplace like a trophy, just like how Law has thought Doflamingo would treat Cora-san’s heart - cruel, callous and careless.

Later when Law has removed the box and Cora-san’s heart is safely in his possession, he would remember how Cora-san’s heart was placed directly across from Doflamingo’s bed, right at eye level, remember Doflamingo’s specific choice of wanting Cora-san’s heart, remember the vines around Cora-san’s heart that were clear indications of the Hanahaki disease, remember the conversation both of them had with Law back in his youth where they asked him about the Hanahaki disease and the looks they exchanged after.

Then Law will wonder if maybe Doflamingo didn’t keep Cora-san’s heart as a trophy, but rather as a memorial.

**Author's Note:**

> Every night, I dream you’re still here  
> The ghost by my side, so perfectly clear  
> When I awake, you’ll disappear  
> Back to the shadows  
> With all I hold dear
> 
> I dream you’re still here  
> \- [ Still Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ljegvS94qE) by Digital Daggers ([official](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LD9RqOevOpw))  
>    
>  
> 
> [Tumblr ](https://beyond-myreach.tumblr.com/post/174126743513/you-love-love-love-when-you-know-i-cant-love)


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